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✯ E V E L Y N ✯

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✯ E V E L Y N ✯



Red lips.

Smudged eyeliner.

Tear-stained cheeks.

I can't hear what Villette is saying; I'm too far away. I stay frozen at my locker, fingers wrapped around my combination lock as I prepare to pull it open. Jesse is beside me, talking about something I couldn't care less about. Not when the scene is unfolding less than ten feet away from me.

Villette's eyes narrow as she hisses in Lio's ear, her hand gripping Lio's forearm. I can see the grip Villette has on her is tight. Her sharp nails are digging into her skin, and Lio's wincing in pain but holding her ground. Around them, everyone goes about their business. They don't even notice the exchange. No one notices.

No one but me.

The words fat and slut and never want you float in the air, but Jesse's name catches my attention. His voice makes me flinch, and I yank open my locker, stuffing my books inside. "—Anyways, come if you want, and bring a friend - preferably a girl," he finishes, and he casts me a suggestive look. My head is too full of cotton and whirring thoughts that I barely hear him.

"Yeah, sure . . . " I answer distractedly. I turn around to see Villette grinning at Lio before she forcefully bumps her shoulder into the blond and walks away. Lio is left standing there, wiping away the tears that keep falling down her cheeks. My heart aches for her, and I'm about to walk over when Jesse proceeds to drag me towards our European History class.

And, as I throw one last glance in Lio's direction, her red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes latch onto mine. They're no longer beautiful and light eyes; they're dull, lifeless and swirling with sadness. I know she knows I saw the exchange between her and Villette. I can see the disappointment clear as day on her face. I'm her friend. I'm supposed to defend her. I'm supposed to go and comfort her and not question anything. I should've gone to stand up for her. And yet I couldn't do any of those things.

And when she turns, I'm stuck staring at the image of a girl with blotchy cheeks until we disappear from each other's sight.

♚ J E S S E ♚

She looks so out of place.

In a loose sweatshirt, skinny jeans and her hair up in a messy ponytail, she doesn't fit in amongst the miniskirt-wearing sluts around us.

And yet to me - even at her worst, as she often describes it - she still looks better than everyone else.

Evelyn's eyes travel around the room, nose scrunched in distaste at the number of people grinding and doing drugs in dark corners. "Wow, this really is . . . something," she finally says, having to raise her voice over the music.

Evelyn ✓Where stories live. Discover now